Netflix’s original musical is perhaps a bit too earnest, but is a balm for a bleak & lonely holiday season.
Yakko, Wakko, and Dot burst back onto the small screen with the exact same sensibility it left with in the ’90s, for better and worse.
Sean Penn and Elizabeth Hurley set sail in this testament to Kathyrn Bigelow’s trend for aquatic turmoil.
Ebs Burnough’s composite portrait of Truman Capote reveals all the melodrama and queasy class navigation that seeped into every pore of his queer being.
Jen Rainin’s documentary about famed lesbian magazine Curve is a welcome snapshot of queer lit history, in all the publication’s ups and downs.
Jonathon Wysocki’s debut is a charming portrait of the sound and fury of queer middle-class teendom.
Lazlo & Dylan Tonk’s documentary about Lady Galore is a technically proficient look at the title drag queen that comes up short.
Arash Es’haghi celebrates an unnamed farmer dancing his way to self-love in Iran.
Elegance Bratton’s documentary is a kaleidoscopic view of the unhoused queer youth of Chelsea Pier.
Stormmiguel Florez searches for queer folk in 1980s Albuquerque, and highlights the invisibility of queer Latinx culture.
This queer drama is rife with potential and strong performances, but squashes its promise with too-neat storytelling.
Beverly Glenn-Copeland’s life and music come to light in this illuminating doc about the cult avant-garde musician.
The queer-centered YouTube series gets compiled into a winsome feature that works best as a Queer Culture primer.
Mike Mossalam’s debut feature is a vibrant mosaic of Queer Arab Muslim-American life.
The story behind one of the most powerful feminist anthems of the ’70s gets a glossy treatment that ignores its grittier reality.
Kirsten Dunst and Gabrielle Union’s cheerful high-school comedy finds ways to pepper charming rivalry with digs at cultural theft.
Park chan-wook breaks up his tales of blood and vengeance with a bittersweet tale of the thin, romantic line between compassion and delusion.
Marc Munden’s adaptation of the Frances Hodgson Burnett novel is too myopic to fully bloom, but it has just enough flourishes to work.